


Airhead Doorbell

by Ciestess



Series: One-Shot Wednesdays 2019 [9]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Comedy, Drunk Elves, Elves, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Reader-Insert, Taverns, kinda dungeons & dragons but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2021-01-24 20:10:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21344029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ciestess/pseuds/Ciestess
Summary: This elf has racked up quite the tab at your tavern. And he’ll have to pay up before he’ll get anotherounceof ale out of you!
Series: One-Shot Wednesdays 2019 [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1263302
Kudos: 2





	Airhead Doorbell

The night is winding down, people leaving the small, smokey building in groups or pairs. Most of them drunk. Only a few stragglers are left, sitting in the corners of your tavern and finishing off their drinks.  
And to finish off _your _night, like many nights before, a certain “customer” comes trudging in the door: a sleepy-looking elf with long, messy hair, and a longbow and arrows on his back. He plops down in a stool at the bar -- and lets his head smack down onto the counter with a heavy _thump_. Giving a long-suffering sigh, you walk over to him, your dripping-wet cleaning rag in hand.

You _rhetorically_ (and grumpily) ask, “Long night, Aired?”  
He gives a muffled, “You have no idea” in response anyway, sighs, and lifts his head up with a groan.  
Huh. For once, he actually seems _genuinely _exhausted. Normally, he’d start joking with you the second you walked over, trying to win a free drink with some laughs. Concerned, you ask, “You… wanna talk about it?”  
“No, just…” He brings a hand up and ruffles his hair. The long strands tangle further, making him look like he just climbed out of bed. “Just… One ale, please.”  
“Nuh-uh.”  
Suddenly, he’s wide awake and staring at you, wide-eyed in alarm. “HUH?! Why not?!”

You put the hand holding the rag to your hip -- and send him a serious glare. You _just barely_ manage to growl out, “Be. _Cause_. **_You_**** still haven’t payed off the last…**” You take a moment to double-check your count. The rag drips an entire puddle of dirty water on the floor when, trying to rein in your anger, you squeeze it tight. Exhausted or not, there was no getting around a tab like _his_. “**FIFTY** ales this month. _And_ that isn’t counting _last _month. _OR _the month before _THAT-_!”  
“-I-I-... I just haven’t found a good job yet, that’s all!”  
“And you’re still refusing to _work _off your debt, I take it?”  
Aired glares back at you. “N-no way! I told you before, I’m FAR too skilled to be seen working in a tavern -- let alone as a _waiter _of all things!”

You cross your arms, tapping your thumb and staring him down. He starts sweating.  
There’s only one reason you’d allowed him to rack up such a tab: Elves were always good for business. Whether it was because they always seemed to have money to spare -- or because whatever they lacked in money, they made up for by drawing extra business in the door _just by being inside_. You’d had a few other elves who had gone through similar dry spells, in fact.  
But never as long as Aired.  
And to make matters worse, the elf always came by when business was practically _dead_! If he just came earlier (or accepted the job offer, already!), he might be worth the trouble.

And yet, in this case, he might still be of some use. Because there was one other way elves were good for business: their _skills_.

You stop tapping. “... Well, if it’s a job you’re looking for, I might have one.”  
Aired sits up straighter at your words. His voice comes out choked, “O-Oh…?” He clears his throat. “What is it?”  
“A group of clients came in earlier today. They were complaining about not having a good enough archer to help them take down…” Your mouth thins as you try to remember. “I think they said it was a worm? Eh, it was that or a wyrmling. Either way…”

You reach into the pocket of your apron, pulling out a pen and notepad. You scratch something down, rip the page out, and set it down on the counter in front of Aired. “Here’s their address. Come back with some money, and I’ll _consider _serving you drinks again. Depends how much you bring in.”  
“Oh, um… Thanks?” He picks it up and inspects the note. He’s holding it as if it might bite him.

Swallowing, he tucks it into the pouch on his hip. You’ve gone back to cleaning, trying to dry up the puddle, only to hear him _dare _to ask from above you, “So… I don’t suppose I could get _one _more ale-?”  
You growl, “Get out of my tavern. _Now_.” and hear him scurry out the door.  


You don’t hear from him the next day. But what you do hear, about halfway through the day after that, is your door SLAM open as you’re serving a new customer the best-tasting meal on the menu.  
A burly man with an axe on his belt -- the one who had opened the door _ever-so-gently_ \-- storms up to you and yells, “Are you the one who sent us that archer?!”  
You set down the customer’s meal with a polite, “One moment please.”

Turning from the customer, you tuck the tray you’d carried the food on under your arm. “What archer?”  
You lead the Angry Axe-Man over to the counter (where you at least a have weapon hidden). The man follows you, at least, but he’s still screaming. “That sorry excuse for an elf! ‘Airhead Doorbell’ or whatever!”  
Before you set it down in the sink, the tray hangs in the air for just a second. Hesitating, you ask, “... _Aired Dorbella?_”  
“Yeah! Him!” Axe-Man slams his hands on the counter. “Was it _you _who sent him?!”  
Trying not to chuckle, and as straight-faced as you can manage, you turn and ask, “Why? Did he do something?”  
“He missed the first shot!”  
You pause. “... He what?”  
“HE! _MISSED!_ The _VERY _FIRST! **_SHOT!_**”

Finally, Axe-Man’s teammates join you and a guy dressed all in back adds, “Not just that. He freaking RAN AWAY!”  
You’re still frozen, but you manage to squeeze out, “That… Doesn’t sound right.”  
“You’re telling us!” Axe-Man yells.  
Recovering, you admit, foolishly, that it WAS you who gave him their address- but they interrupt your explanation with an _even more_ confusing bit of info.

A female mage in the back of the small huddle asks- err, _accuses _you, “Why the hell d’you send us that _young_of an elf, **_huh_**?!”  
“Wait. Young?” You stand on your toes to try and meet the woman’s eyes. “What does that have to do with it?”  
She elbows her way to the front, Axe-Man reluctantly shuffling to the side. “It’s only the _really freakin’ old_ ones that are any good at _ANYTHING_!”  
A dwarf on your right adds, “Yeah, and Airhead couldn’t have been more than _twenty_! So why d’you-?!”  
You wave your hands and try to salvage the situation, saying, “I swear, I had _no idea_ \-- about his age OR why it _mattered_! I only gave him your address for the job ‘cause he owes **_me _**a ton of money!”  
“Yeah, well, you’re not the only one!” Axe-Man screams, “He demanded we pay him upfront to be our archer, and then he just VANISHED!”  
Another teammate you can’t see yells from further back, “We should hunt _HIM _instead of the wyrmling!”  
The rest of the group gives out a raucous cheer of agreement.

And a light-bulb turns on in your head. You might be able to get something out of this after all! Aired may not be good for money -- or to recommend for _clients’ _jobs. But if he really isn’t _“any good at ANYTHING”_ like the woman said… Well, now you know why he can’t seem to get any _“good”_ jobs.  
Which means, with the debt he owes you -- _he can’t refuse _**_yours_**!

Smirking, you make yourself heard over the excitement.

And a couple days later, you’re examining the _beautiful _new bounty hanging on your wall:

“REWARD!  
“This young elf owes a large debt to the local tavern. **300 Gold** will be rewarded to anyone who can bring him in ALIVE. Poses minimal threat.”  
There’s a portrait of Aired above the text, with his name printed directly between.

The people who made it must have misheard the name, though. Because the bounty is for someone called “Airhead Doorbell.”  


**Author's Note:**

> This is part of my “OneShot Wednesday” project - I’m trying to write a one-shot every week.
> 
> ###  **And I take requests!**
> 
> Just about everything goes -- I’ll tell you if there’s a problem. But if you want to know the details of how the OSWs work, check out [my website](https://crossroadofinfinity.com/).
> 
> Please send me ALL the ideas!!! I will make sure to recognize whoever’s idea/request it was in the work – just ask if you want to remain anonymous.
> 
> And if you liked this, please **SHARE** it!


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